Sergeant Cleaver and Private Loofa
by L0rDn00
Summary: Pvt. Loofa tires his best to cope with Sgt. Cleaver's constant...complaining.


Sergeant Cleaver and Private Loofa

Chapter One

Sgt. Andrew Cleaver and Pvt. Kenny Loofa were stationed in the middle of a Covenant controlled forest for over a week now. Supposedly, they were to monitor Covenant activity and relay the information back to HQ…or, it was to just keep them away due to that one bathroom incident; but that is of no importance. The Sergeant was a large, burly man of 32. He has short black hair and brown eyes and is always seen wearing a cap and no forearm armor with his sleeves rolled up due to the warm temperatures. His armor is dented and scratched in many places from the many years he has served in the UNSC. Loofa on the other hand, wore full armor, complete with helmet that covered his short brown hair.

Their small camp, located in a clearing with a small dirt path leading deeper into the forest, consisted mainly of crates of ammunition, food, medical supplies. There were two tents erected sided by side in front of a small fire and one stationary gun turret perched atop a mound next to the fire, overlooking the human encampment along with a low table near one of the tents. They had also dragged a few logs close to the fire as make-shift benches and had fortified their position with sandbags (proven to be strangely effective for blocking plasma bolts) and some barbed wire. They had been dropped here under the cover of night along with a M12 LRV LAAG 'Warthog' (for God knows what…) and the supplies.

But today, unfortunately for Loofa, The Sergeant had once again, for the third time since their drop, managed to 'misplace' his S2AM scope and was in the process of rediscovering it…complete with flying crates, wrenches, and uncooked chicken.

"Boy, where in Sam-hell is my scope?" demanded the Sergeant as he overturned yet another crate, adding to the already large disaster area that spanned the diameter of the camp.

Despite the fact that every single time that he misplaced his scope, oddly, he has not grasped the concept of double checking his pockets; namely his left thigh pocket, which was where he, each and every time, found his scope.

Loofa got up from the log that had just been hit by the crate, which had exploded into a shower of magnum bullets. He sighed and said, "Have you checked your pockets, sir?"

"Of course I've checked my pockets! What do you take me for? An idiot?" retorted the enraged Officer.

"No sir, I meant, have you checked your pockets _twice_?"

"Now why would I need to do that?"

"It's just a good idea. Trust me."

"Alright then, if I don't find it in one of my pockets, you'll have an extra week added to your weapons suspension," agreed the Sergeant, confidently, "if I do manage to find it there, then you'll regain your privileges. Agreed?"

"Yes sir!" chimed Loofa.

"Well, then. Let's begin."

The Sergeant walked over to the low table in front of his tent and proceeded to open every pocket and extracted each item, one by one, then displayed them on the table, with deliberate slowness. The more unusual items such as a half eaten stick of beef jerky and a small pink stuffed rabbit, were discarded immediately, but not without Loofa's uncontrollable giggling.

When Cleaver reached into his left pocket and drew out his long lost scope, he wore an expression of utter surprise.

"Oh…uh…well…whaddaya know? Heh…look Loofa, it's my scope…" laughed the Sergeant.

"Hehehe," chuckled Loofa, "See? This is why you check your pockets twice, sir."

"Man, shut the hell up, marine. I don't remember giving you permission to speak," growled Cleaver as he walked into his tent.

Loofa yelled after him, "What about my weapons privileges?" only to get a barely audible grunt of approval from the Sergeant. Cleaver then returned from his tent carrying his modified S2AM, now complete with scope, and a cleaning rag.

"You cleaning your rifle again, sir?" asked Loofa as he walked off towards his tent.

"Yes, private. And where do you think you're going?"

"Again, sir? And whaddaya mean 'where am I going?'" questioned Loofa, "I'm going to go take a nap."

"Again…?" mocked Cleaver, "Don't you have some work to do?"

"Work?" asked Loofa with a quizzical look.

"Aren't you going to clean up this mess?"

"You mean _your _mess, sir," corrected Loofa, "The one you made 'cause you couldn't find _your _scope."

"Yes marine, now you busy yourself with this mess before I suspend _your _weapons privileges."

"But-…" began a very distressed Loofa.

"What did your mother tell you? I think it was something like 'NO BUTS?' Now you do what your commanding officer tells ya to do even if he tells you to jump off a cliff! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Well, technically, a commanding off-," began Loofa again but was promptly cut off by Cleaver's involuntary twitching of his eye and his 'you-give-me-any-sass-and-I'll-rip-off-yer-lips' look, "Yes sir, I'll get right on it."

"That's better; now get to work while I clean my gun. That give you say… … …twenty minutes. Remember, today is also your turn to go spy on that Covie camp," smiled the Sergeant as he plopped himself down on the stump in front of the low table and began to clean his rifle while humming a random tune.

Loofa stared, open mouthed at the hopeless mess that they dared to call a camp. Never before had Sergeant made such a big mess…and even if he did, he normally cleaned most of it himself- leaving the…other stuff to Loofa. After a few seconds of composing himself, began to place things in order.

After an hour of cursing, kicking and a lot of sweat, Loofa managed to make the place look less like a pig-sty and more like a UNSC encampment. Fortunately for Loofa, Cleaver somehow managed to fall asleep a few minutes into his polishing giving Loofa more than enough time to reorganize the camp- provided that Sarge stays asleep.

Upon the completion of his ungodly task, he tip-toed across camp and into his tent to take that nap that was now well overdue.

As he lay down on his cot, he thought to himself, "Why does that bastard treat me like this…? Since when was I his personal slave?" After a few more minutes of thinking and plotting his revenge, he dozed off into a light sleep- only to be awakened by Cleaver's excessively loud cursing and screaming.

End Chapter One


End file.
